


Younger Brother

by c_r_roberts



Category: Hunger Games Series - All Media Types, Hunger Games Trilogy - Suzanne Collins, The Hunger Games (Movies)
Genre: Alternate Universe - High School, F/M, High School
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-04-06
Updated: 2015-04-06
Packaged: 2018-03-21 15:38:49
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 11,334
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3697709
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/c_r_roberts/pseuds/c_r_roberts
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>
  <em>Katniss Everdeen has never been interested in boys.  But that hasn’t stopped her best friend’s younger brother from being interested in her.  And there’s always a first time for everything.</em>
</p>
            </blockquote>





	Younger Brother

**Author's Note:**

  * For [flythroughflames](https://archiveofourown.org/users/flythroughflames/gifts).



"Hey, Katniss?" His voice is soft from where he stands just outside of Madge's bedroom, knocking lightly on the door that's been left half open.

I shift slightly from my position on the floor, propped up against the side of Madge's bed, but I don't look up from my notebook I'm currently writing in. "Unless you're offering to do my homework, go away."

Out of the corner of my eye, I notice his blue eyes flinch, taken aback by my flippantness. I feel a pang of guilt at his reaction, but I pretend like I have bigger problems to worry about than the feelings of Madge's little brother.

"Seriously, Peeta, get out," Madge snaps, shooing him away from us with her hand. She's sprawled out on her bed, lying on her stomach and peering over the screen of her laptop, scowling at him. "And close the door behind you. We're busy in here."

I finally look up from my Physics homework, watching him narrow his eyes at his sister before flitting them in my direction. They're piercing and blue and they send a rush of heat to the apples of my cheeks while creating an uneasy feeling in the pit of my stomach. He sighs. "I just came to tell you that Mom said dinner will be ready in ten minutes. She wanted to know if Katniss is staying again."

I freeze, my hand stilling from the half-hearted notes I'm trying to take. Eating dinner with the Mellarks is not an uncommon occurrence for me, but I can't help but hear the condescending way Mrs. Mellark probably said those exact words to Peeta, never passing up the chance to make me aware she considers me a charity case.

"Of course she's staying," Madge rolls her eyes, answering for me. "Did you really have to come all the way up here to ask that?" The way Madge says that last part, with a mocking lilt to her voice, her implication is obvious.

Peeta Mellark, Madge's younger brother by 15 months, has a crush on me.

He has for years, at least according to Madge. And the girl who I've called my best friend since we were ten and sat next to each other in Ms. Trinkett's fourth grade class takes almost every opportunity to tease him about it. To his credit, Peeta handles her ridicule like a champ—especially recently, because his face no longer turns a tinge of red at every mention of my name. And now, as I've seen him do more often over the past few weeks, he just gives his sister an amused half-smile.

"See you at dinner," he sighs, ignoring the question and turning to leave.

I watch, unsure exactly how Madge's scrawny little brother, the kid who used to terrorize us with water guns or snow balls, depending on the season, and who spends most of his free time holed away in the basement or his bedroom, became Peeta Mellark, the guy with wavy blond hair, clear, bright eyes, and a squared off jaw.

"Hey," I call after him, raising an eyebrow when he spins back around quickly. "Seriously. Shut the door behind you."

Peeta shakes his head at me, and I hope he catches the apologetic look in my eye, but I can't be sure. I've already refocused my attention on Madge, who's complaining before Peeta's even finished closing the door.

"Ugh, sorry about that," she says loudly enough I'm sure it's meant for Peeta's ears too. "I swear, one of these days I'm going to find him a girlfriend just so he leaves you alone."

I look back down to my notebook, doodling absently in the corner of the page, brushing back the stray strands of hair that fall into my face as I do. "He's fine," I murmur. "Don't worry about it."

"Anyway," Madge continues, clearly not actually worried about it. "As I was saying, did you see Gale Hawthorne came to our game last night? Do you think that means anything?"

Gale Hawthorne is in our grade, a fellow Senior, the star of the Panem High football team. He's also the guy Madge has been obsessed with since this summer, the boy I've listened to her talk about incessantly for months now. So when she asks, what I really want to say is that I think his presence at our game means that his little sister Posy is on our Freshman team and that he was there to watch _her_ , but I don't think Madge will like that answer very much. So instead I grin up at her. "I think it means you're going to talk about how hot you think Gale Hawthorne is until dinner's ready."

Madge makes a face and throws one of her pillows at my head. I laugh, putting my hand up to block the feathery blow, and then I stick the pillow behind my back for more support.

"At least I have romantic prospects!" she huffs at me, rolling over onto her back and staring up at her ceiling. "Unlike you, who won't even acknowledge that Cato Clark won't stop checking you out every time you walk by him in the hallway."

It's my turn to make a face at Madge. Because Cato Clark is terrible. He's your stereotypical jock of a football player who, yes, stares at me, and who I've heard say objectifying things about me when I'm wearing the spandex shorts of my volleyball uniform. Cato Clark is one of those guys who only wants one thing from girls. And it's something I have absolutely no interest in giving him. Or anyone else for that matter.

Well, almost anyone else. But Madge definitely doesn't need to know about _that._

"Madge," I groan, throwing my head back so that it hits the edge of her mattress with a soft thud. "Don't. Tell me about how broad Gale's shoulders are or something instead."

I hear her laugh above me. "I can't wait until you finally get a crush one of these days. And when that day comes, I will mock you so badly for it, Katniss Everdeen."

***

_Spending a week at the Mellark family's cabin in the woods is a staple of summer vacation. I've been tagging along for the trip that happens at the end of July every year since middle school, and the summer before Senior year is no exception. Everyone in the family always goes, including Ryan, Madge's older brother who's in college now. He brings his new girlfriend, Johanna, who's sharp-featured and sharp-tongued, and not very friendly, but Ryan seems to like her enough. And then there's Madge and me, who spend most of the week sun bathing by the pool and trying to decide which of our classmates Madge should date this year because Madge has suddenly become uncontrollably boy crazy. Peeta's there too, of course, but while he's brought friends in the past, no one comes with him this year. He's pretty much ignored all of us this week though, in favor of reading a book in the shade or working on his computer, claiming he needs to catch up on his summer homework for AP English Lit._

_To be honest, it feels more like he's avoiding all of us. He's never been overly social with everyone, but I have a sinking feeling my presence and Madge's constant jabs at his expense are part of the reason he's keeping his distance. While the rest of us will at least play cards at night or make s'mores around the fire pit out back, and sneak beers from the cooler after Mr. and Mrs. Mellark have gone to bed, Peeta participates in none of it, even though he's more than welcome to join. I feel kind of bad for him, but it's his vacation too, and I guess he can do whatever he wants. Although by the last night of the trip, even Johanna, who's seemed too cool to care so far, starts asking about him._

_"Seriously, what's his deal?" Johanna asks, sipping from at least her fourth bottle of beer. Mr. Mellark had quietly told us it was okay to finish his beer cooler off before he went to bed, so everyone's drinking more liberally. Johanna's question is in response to Madge, who's just made a remark about Peeta being boring and lame for choosing to watch a movie alone in the den rather than drink with us out here. "He's a cute enough kid, why's he such a loner?"_

_Madge scrunches her nose. "Please don't call my little brother cute. It's bad enough you're dating Ryan as it is."_

_Johanna ignores her, turning to Ryan, who's been drinking his beer without comment so far. "Has he ever even kissed a girl? How old is he? He should be kissing girls by now. And dating them. He's not gay, is he? Not that there's anything wrong with that, but, you know."_

_Ryan looks at his girlfriend wearily, and even in the dim light of the fire, I catch the eldest Mellark frowning. Although I'm not sure if it's because Johanna sounds pretty drunk, or because it's one thing for him to call his little brother a dork, but entirely another for someone else to call him names. Maybe it's a little bit of both._

_He sighs, forcing a chuckle. "He's sixteen. He's fine. Not everyone loses their virginity as a Freshman, you know."_

_Johanna doesn't seem bothered by his comment, which is clearly directed at her. In fact, I'm not entirely sure she even hears him, because her attention has become laser-focused on me. "You," she says, narrowing her eyes like she's studying me. "You should kiss him."_

_My eyes go wide, and I spit-choke on my beer, coughing to clear my throat at the same time Madge shrieks her obvious disapproval._

_"What?! No! Stop being gross, Jo. That's gross."_

_"C'mon, you're supposedly the brave one. If you can catch a mouse, you can totally kiss a boy. Let him know what he's missing."_

_Suddenly, I'm regretting volunteering to trap a mouse in a cup with cheese-bait after everyone screeched and screamed around the kitchen table two nights ago as we played gin rummy. If I had any idea my heroic actions would have volunteered me to be lip-locked with Peeta, I may have just let everyone cry about a harmless little mouse all night instead._

_But then Ryan, the voice of reason, comes to my rescue. "Okay, first of all, I think you're drunk and bordering on disorderly," he tells his girlfriend while swiftly swiping her beer from her hand. He dangles it away from her with a grin as Johanna scowls at him. "Second of all, stop trying to pimp out my little brother. And Katniss. It's weird." He shakes his head and sips from his own beer before muttering something else under his breath. "Besides, that's not brave. It's just mean."_

_My head jerks in Ryan's direction, and I furrow my brow. What is that supposed to mean?_

_Although I kind of know what he means. Everyone kind of knows what he means, mostly thanks to Madge, who likes to taunt Peeta about the crush she thinks he has on me. The one that he might actually have, judging by the way I sometimes catch him staring at me, before flitting his blond lashes and blue eyes away, shyly and like he's guilty of something. But I've always brushed it off as nothing, as something harmless, as something all big sisters tease their little brothers about._

_Ryan looks at me like_ he _knows_ I _know what he means, and my cheeks flush. I'm glad for the cover of darkness, so no one can see them. And then rather than dignifying any of this with a response, I polish off the rest of my beer, willing the conversation to go away._

_It's quiet for a moment before Johanna finally speaks again, rolling her eyes at all of us. "Fine. Well then at least go tell him to join us in the land of the social. Whatever he's doing in there can wait. I want to ask him some questions."_

_While I'm concerned for Johanna's plan in Peeta's presence, asking him to come outside with the rest of us is something I actually can do. And it gets me out of their company, which is making me feel beyond awkward and put on the spot. Besides, I could use a glass of water anyway._

_"Okay," I say, like it's no big deal. Because it's not. Although I feel three pairs of eyes following me all the way back to the house._

_As I make my way inside, I see a bluish glow coming from the cabin's window, confirming Peeta's watching something on the television. I enter through the back door quietly, and if Peeta notices me from his spot on the sofa in the den, he doesn't say anything. I can see him from where I stand at the kitchen counter, pouring myself a glass of water. His feet are propped up on the coffee table in front of him, and I immediately recognize the movie he's watching as_ Saving Private Ryan, _which plays on the large television set on top of the stand pushed against the far wall of the room._

_The house feels deserted except for us, Mr. and Mrs. Mellark having gone to bed over an hour ago. It's quiet too, other than the sounds of the movie, which plays at a low volume, probably out of respect for Peeta's sleeping parents._

_I sip my water before finally taking a few steps in his direction. "You should come outside," I tell him. "Join the party."_

_"Yeah, no thanks," Peeta says, not bothering to look away from the television screen, even as I approach the other end of the sofa._

_Undeterred, I plop down next to him. "What, are you too cool for us or something?"_

_He looks up at me, looking less interested in my presence than I expected. But he does sit up a little straighter, dropping his legs from the coffee table, shifting to angle himself slightly towards me. He shrugs, expressionless. "You got me, that's it."_

_I sigh, leaning back into the cushions and tucking my legs underneath me, making myself more comfortable on the couch. "Yeah, well, I don't blame you," I tell him with a small smile. "You're not missing much."_

_This manages to at least pique his interest. "What are you guys even doing out there?"_

_"Getting drunk," I shrug, taking another drink of my water, which tastes especially cool and refreshing after two beers, before setting it down on the coffee table._

_Peeta turns his gaze back to the television. "So you're drunk then," he groans._

_"I am not," I scoff, shoving him lightly in the arm. And I may not be drunk, but apparently I am a lightweight, because I'm buzzed enough that I thought shoving Peeta was a good idea. He looks back at me, surprise crossing his face. I drop my hand from his upper arm sheepishly, a dull burn stinging my cheeks. "Sorry," I breathe._

_My apology actually makes him crack a smile, which helps to relieve my embarrassment. "Be careful," he warns. "Or you'll spill the popcorn."_

_I glance down to the bowl in his lap, half full with fluffy white kernels that had absolutely no chance of spilling with my slight push. I stick my tongue out at him, and then steal a handful from the bowl, chewing on a few kernels at a time as Peeta watches me with curious, and skeptical, blue eyes. His blond hair is soft against his forehead, fresh after a shower, and his freckles on the bridge of his nose are more prominent than ever, brought out by a week's worth of sun._

_"So if the party's outside, what are you doing in here, with me?"_

_Other than asking him to join the rest of us, I'm not sure. And he's already turned me down, so I guess it's a valid question. But for some reason, I don't feel any urgency to leave._

_"I'm hungry," I decide, reaching into the popcorn bowl and scooping out another, bigger, handful of popcorn._

_He watches, looking both doubtful and amused. "When aren't you hungry though?"_

_"Ha ha," I say, wrinkling my nose and purposefully stuffing all of the popcorn in my mouth._

_Peeta laughs, shaking his head at me._

_"Do you want me to go?" I say as I chew, smiling crookedly through my mouthful of popcorn. I pretend not to notice the slight redness to his cheeks, and the way his lips purse together as he considers me. He exhales, shrugging his shoulders._

_"You can stay," he says simply. "But I'm watching a movie here, so chew quietly."_

_"Yes, sir," I nod, swallowing my food and reaching for another handful of popcorn, also pretending not to notice how he flinches slightly as my arm grazes across his body. I pop a few more kernels in my mouth, chewing slowly and deliberately. "How's this?"_

_Peeta rolls his eyes at me, but his smile tells me he's more amused than annoyed. And everything else—how I've watched him wipe his palms against the soft material of his athletic shorts twice now, and how his eyes continue to dart between mine and just about any other focal point in the room—tells me he's not annoyed at all._

_"It's perfect," he tells me before reaching for his own handful of popcorn. I grin at him and relax back into my seat, and this time, when my shoulder brushes against his, he doesn't flinch._

_We watch the movie quietly then, although I pay no attention to it because I can't get Johanna's words out of my head. I feel so stupid for it, though. I've never thought of Peeta as anyone other than Madge's younger brother who always annoyed us. But now, with Johanna calling him cute and throwing around ideas like us kissing and me being brave, it's like I'm suddenly seeing him in a different light. He's not Madge's unpopular little brother, he's Peeta, who's sixteen years old and only eleven months younger than me. And sitting next to him on the couch now, a nervous energy courses through me._

_It doesn't help that Ryan's knowing look basically confirmed for me that Peeta likes me, because I'm starting to think that I_ like _that he likes me, even though that seems wrong. I'm his sister's best friend. His older sister's best friend. Who would probably kill me, and definitely him, if something ever happened between us. But I can't stop myself from sneaking glances at him and his boyishly handsome features, wondering how I never noticed them before._

_"What is it?" Peeta finally asks, and I'm caught absently counting the freckles on his nose. Eleven, by the way. My chest tightens, and I freeze. I don't have an answer for him._

_But his eyes lock on mine, and none of that seems to matter._

_Maybe I'm crazy, and maybe it's suicide even, but I lean in and kiss Peeta full on the mouth. I feel his shock as I press my lips against his, and I clumsily rest my hands against his chest, gently fisting the cotton of his t-shirt, maybe subconsciously thinking he might pull away if I don't hold on. But then his mouth begins to move against mine, soft and pliant, but with purpose. It's not a long kiss. But it's a good kiss. Good enough it makes me realize that I've never kissed a boy where I've felt something before, because I don't recognize the warmth I'm feeling in the pit of my stomach or in the tips of my fingers or toes._

_Peeta pulls back, his blue eyes darting between mine, full of surprise, and confusion, and wonder. "What…what was that for?"_

_I stare back, completely unaware of what to say. I have no idea what that was for._

_"I…I…I…"_

_"You know what? I don't care."_

_And then Peeta's hands are cupping my face, and his lips are back on mine._

***

After practice the next day at school, I throw on my favorite gray sweatshirt, the one with ugly block writing promoting Panem High's football team, to fight the chill in the mid-October air. I pull my braid through the neck's opening, and tug at the slightly frayed sleeves, liking the sweatshirt despite its aesthetics because it's big and comfy and the fleece feels soft against my still-sweaty skin. I tug my jeans back on next, happily changing out of the spandex shorts I wear for practice, before slinging my bag over my shoulder and exiting the locker room. I enter the hallway in front of the gym, crowded with athletes from various practices ending around the same time, looking for Madge, who's my ride home. She only exited the locker room a minute before me, but I've already lost her in a sea of football players, who've made their way back inside from the practice field.

Within seconds, I end up practically face to face with the only person I was actually trying to avoid. Cato Clark, who's almost a foot taller than me, with grass stains on his pants and shoulder pads in hand, approaches me quickly. Too quickly for me to duck back into the locker room, which is what I wish I could do right now.

"Hey, Katniss," he says casually, but the look in his eyes makes me instantly uncomfortable.

"Hi," I say dully, uncaring if he notices the frown I'm wearing in his presence.

"I just, uh, wanted to make sure you knew about the party I'm having this weekend. On Saturday, after the big game."

Right. Cato's party. The one everyone can't shut up about because his parents don't care if people drink at their house, and he's promising to even have a keg. The party I have no intention of attending.

"Oh," I tell him with a shrug. "Yeah, sorry. I can't go." I look disinterestedly past him, noticing Madge down the hall, talking with Gale Hawthorne, who is, as of third period today, her new research partner for a World History assignment. I groan inwardly, because this means there's no way Madge is leaving any time soon. And she seems much too busy batting her eyelashes and giving Gale flirtatious smiles to notice her best friend, who's currently trapped.

Cato frowns at me, like he can't believe I have something else going on besides the biggest party of the year. "Why not?"

I claim it's because I'm working the late shift at the nursing home that night, even though I know I'm getting off at five on Saturday. I'm explaining to Cato that yes, I already tried finding someone to switch shifts with me, because I know the Panem vs. Capitol football game is a huge rivalry game, but unfortunately, no one was available, when I see Peeta approaching down the hallway, coming from the direction of the auditorium.

I furrow my brow, wondering what he's doing in the athletic wing of the school. I know that he was supposed to be painting sets for the school's production of _Our Town_ this afternoon, but Peeta never comes this way.

I'm even more surprised when Peeta walks right up to me.

"Can we help you?" Cato says condescendingly, looking irritated by Peeta, who, while taller than me, is still significantly shorter than the hulking Cato Clark. Peeta doesn't respond to Cato's intimidation tactics, and instead he simply looks at me like he's bored with his reason for being here, hooking his thumbs under the straps of his backpack.

"Where's Madge? Are you guys ready to go?"

Confusion crosses my face, and Peeta frowns. "She didn't tell you, did she?" he sighs, shaking his head. I have no idea what he's talking about, and while I certainly don't mind Peeta's company right now, I'm not all that sure how to react to it.

Suddenly, Madge appears at my side, graciously ripping herself away from Gale Hawthorne long enough to explain what's going on.

"Sorry," she hisses at me, although nothing about her tone sounds apologetic. "I forgot to tell you. My dad took my car to get new break pads today. Peeta was supposed to drive us home. But, um," she pauses, looking at me with a shameless grin on her face. "I kind of just made plans to go to the library with Gale." Then she looks back to her brother, her eyes going wide with a knowing glint. "You don't mind taking Katniss home anyway, do you?"

I have to give Peeta credit, because he looks put out by Madge's request, and he hesitates long enough that it gives Cato the chance to pipe up.

"I can take you," he offers. "I'd be more than happy to, actually."

Just the thought makes my skin crawl. I stare at Cato blankly, wondering if _absolutely not_ is an appropriate response. "Oh, um, I don't—"

"—You're on the way anyway, Katniss. It's no big deal."

"Thanks, kid, but I think I've got this." Cato's response is instantaneous to Peeta's offer, and I don't know what makes me angrier—Cato thinking he can call dibs on me, or Cato calling Peeta a kid. I fight the urge to respond, ignoring him in favor of turning to Peeta.

"Yeah? Okay, that'd be great." I smile at him appreciatively, but not too appreciatively, all too aware of both Madge's eyes and Cato's disbelieving gaze on me.

"Are you serious right now?"

I look back to Cato, who I've all but turned my back on, and it's like I can practically see the steam coming out of his dopey ears.

"Yeah," I tell him. "I'm serious. My house is on the way anyway, it makes more sense for Peeta to take me."

Cato gives me a disgusted look, and he shakes his head before mumbling something incoherent, but probably expletive-filled. But then he walks away, and I wonder if this is the last time Cato Clark will be bothering me, considering I just publicly blew him off for Madge Mellark's little brother.

"Thanks, dork!" Madge tells her brother cheerfully, pulling my attention back to Peeta, who sighs an annoyed sigh at her.

"Yeah, thanks, dork," I echo Madge softly.

"Well, if you don't mind, I kind of have to get going," Peeta says, looking sufficiently annoyed with me too.

_Gladly._ But I play it off with a shrug. "Yeah, sure. Let's go."

Madge tells me she'll call me later, and I can't help but smile at her and the way she practically skips back to Gale. I have to admit, with the way he's looking at her as she returns, I might have been wrong. Maybe he didn't come to our game the other night just for Posy.

But right now, I have my own love life to focus on.

"Thanks for the ride," I tell Peeta again, once we're outside the building and heading to his car, which is parked on the far side of the parking lot, where all the Juniors park. The sun's beginning to set, and the air's chilly, but I'm not cold. Peeta walks next to me, his jacket flapping lightly and his hair becoming windblown with the breeze.

"No problem," he says, shoving his hands in his pockets, looking straight ahead.

I frown, wondering why he's being so short with me. "What's wrong?"

"Nothing," Peeta responds, still not looking at me. He's lying, I know that much. But I can't figure out what's bothering him. By the time we reach his car, I give up trying. Instead, I let the knot in my stomach build as he drives me home in relative silence.

Peeta pulls into my driveway, in front of the little house I share with just my mother, and I watch with concern as he shifts the gear of his used Jeep Cherokee—a hand me down from Ryan—into park.

"Do you want to come in for a little bit?" I ask him hopefully. He shakes his head, still avoiding eye contact. "My mom's not home," I add, and I must sound pretty pathetic, the way my voice cracks as I speak. Are we fighting? Is this what fighting feels like? And if so, what did I do wrong?

"Katniss," Peeta sighs, over the light hum of his idling engine, finally turning to look at me. "I'm not a kid."

"I know," I breathe. And he's not. Especially not right here, right now, sitting with me, because he looks much older than a sixteen year old wearing a windbreaker and paint-splattered jeans, with an expression on his face that's full of resolve, and serious blue eyes that lock on mine. "Peeta, if I thought you were a kid, I wouldn't be spending half my time figuring out how to be with you," I tell him softly. And sincerely. I lean over the center console to kiss him, as if proving my point, but he stops me, holding up his hand.

"Stop," he whispers, blinking his eyes closed and reopening them slowly, as if he's trying to gain his composure. I bite down on my bottom lip, frowning as I watch his eyes flicker with an intensity I don't recognize. He swallows hard before speaking again.

"If you really wanted to be with me, like you say you do, it wouldn't be so hard for you to figure out. I like you, a lot, Katniss. And I just…I don't want to be a usable, throw-away thing to you."

My face falls, and it feels like I've been punched in the gut. I shake my head at him, the creases in my forehead deepening with confusion. "You're not."

His lips form a hard line, and my stomach drops further as Peeta narrows his eyes at me, considering me. "Yeah…I'm not so sure. It kind of feels like I am."

***

_Madge throws the first party of the year. The school year hasn't even started, technically, but all the fall athletes are back at school for practices and pre-season scrimmages, so it almost feels like Senior year's well under way by the last weekend in August. Mr. and Mrs. Mellark are out of town, taking Ryan back to college six hours away, giving Madge the perfect excuse to have people over. And by ten o'clock, the Mellarks' back deck is crawling with Seniors, and some Juniors even, all drinking a hodge-podge of alcohol people managed to scrounge together. Ryan bought Madge a handle of vodka before leaving for school with his fake ID, and I spend the first two hours of the party pretending to fill my cup with it. In actuality, I'm just sipping cranberry juice._

_My plan works perfectly though, because when I decide it's time to make my move, all I have to do is hold my stomach and nod my head lazily at Madge before stumbling toward the sliding glass doors that let me back into the house. I don't even have to say a word to her; she just shakes her head at me, knowing me well enough to know that I'm headed upstairs for an early bedtime at my home away from home. I almost laugh when I hear her grumbling to Clove Mason, a dark-haired girl on our JV team, that I'm such a lightweight for passing out before eleven, because while Madge is correct in assuming I'm headed to bed, she has no idea whose bed I'm headed for._

_Which is a good thing, because if she did, I'm pretty sure we'd both be dead._

_Since we kissed at the cabin a few weeks ago, I can't stop thinking about him. It's embarrassing, how much I like kissing Peeta Mellark. And not because he's younger than me, or because Madge doesn't think he's cool enough, or because he doesn't seem to have much of a social life of his own._

_It's embarrassing because I'm Katniss Everdeen, the girl who's never had a boyfriend. I've never needed, or wanted, one before. Boys have never been much of a concern for me—I've had bigger, more important issues to deal with. But now, sometimes I feel as boy crazy as Madge is. Well, except that I'm crazy for only one boy._

_And if crazy isn't the right word, then addicting is. Because I can't get enough of Peeta, who I used to think of as quiet and kind of scrawny, but who's very quickly become smart and adorable Peeta, who has surprisingly well-defined muscles beneath those t-shirts and polo shirts he wears. And lips that kiss confidently, and hands that move around my body with the assurance of someone who knows what he's doing. Who's articulate and funny in the text messages we've started to exchange. Who finds ways to sneak away with me when I'm over his house to hang out with his sister, finding me in places like the basement bathroom and out back by the garage so he can kiss me until I'm dizzy._

_So my trip to his bedroom feels like a big deal, because it's the first time we're able to spend more than a few minutes alone together, and without the fear of being caught._

_I knock lightly on his door and push it open without waiting for a response, observing Peeta sitting up in his bed, engrossed in something he's drawing. "Hey," I whisper, getting his attention as I move just inside his door._

_"Hey," he says back, smiling at me. "How's the party?"_

_"Boring," I respond truthfully, closing the door behind me with a soft click. Nothing keeps my attention like he does any more. "But everyone else seems to be having fun, so I don't think anyone will miss me." I make a move toward Peeta's bed, but I stop when he gestures for me to lock the deadbolt on the door behind me, quickly turning it to the right and tugging on the knob just to make sure it's locked._

_Peeta closes the sketchbook he's working in, pulling back the covers of his bed to let me in with him. He's wearing a plain t-shirt and just his boxer shorts, and I'm not in much more, just a simple pair of jean shorts and a tank top, as I crawl in next to him._

_"Hi," he greets me again with a grin, sliding one hand into mine, using his free hand to move his book to the other side of the bed. Or at least, he starts to move his book until I stop him._

_"Can I…I mean, do you mind if I see what you're working on?"_

_Peeta looks at me, sucking in a breath as his face flushes._

_"Sorry. It's okay if you don't want me to," I say, realizing I've embarrassed him, feeling my face turn red too._

_"No," he says, squeezing my hand. "I'm happy to show you. I just…hope you're not…mad."_

_I'm confused by what Peeta means until he reopens his sketchbook and my jaw drops. First of all, I had no idea he was so talented. He's sketched pages and pages of what looks like the start of a comic book, and his drawings are so clean and good and professional-looking that they look like something that could have already been published. And second of all, I don't know how or why, but his protagonist is a young preteen girl who looks remarkably like my little sister. Right down to the stick straight long blonde hair and blue eyes. Even her name—Rose—seems to be a nod to her._

_"I don't know," Peeta breathes, looking sheepish, and nervous, after I've spent a good minute flipping through pages of Rose saving the world in different scenarios with her magical healing powers. "I thought it might be a good way to remember her by."_

_"Peeta, these are beautiful," I murmur, unsure of what to make of all of it. I definitely appreciate the gesture. I'm in awe of it, actually. Well really, I'm in awe of him._

_"You're not mad?" he asks, relief flooding his eyes._

_"I'm not mad," I repeat, sincerely. "I just…can't believe you remember her so well. It looks just like her," I tell him, staring at the drawings of the cartoon girl who looks so much like my little sister I lost five years ago to the car accident that also took my father._

_He smiles a crooked, knowing, sort of sad half smile. "Katniss, I remember everything about you."_

_My chest tightens as his clear blue eyes stare into mine. I close his sketchbook wordlessly, placing it carefully on his nightstand. He watches me, even as I turn back into him, sliding my hands slowly up his abdomen until I rest them on his chest as I roll myself on top of him, kissing him, softly at first, and then more hungrily as he accepts my lips on his. I straddle his hips between my legs, moving my hands to cup his face, needing to kiss him with an intensity that matches how I'm feeling right now. His tongue slides past my lips, hot and wet as it tangles with mine, and his hands move to my back, skimming their way under the flimsy cotton of my tank top._

_I feel the friction of his burgeoning erection underneath the material of his boxers and the denim of my shorts, and I can feel a hot wetness building inside of me. I rock my hips against him gently, eliciting a hoarse grunt from Peeta's throat. Peeta's reaction makes me rock into him again instantly. Until now, all we've dared to do is kiss, but as Peeta's mouth crashes against mine, his hands eagerly stripping me of my shirt, only breaking the kiss so I can tug it over my head, his own following closely behind as I slip out of my shorts, I think we might do a little bit more than kiss tonight._

_I stare down at him, swallowing hard as his eyes take me in, and I let mine skim his body, which is slender but sturdy. Peeta looks at me appreciatively, his hands grazing up my back, his fingers fumbling with the clasp of my bra, holding my gaze until I feel the hooks spring undone. I let it fall down my arms, tossing the simple material on the floor with the rest of our clothing, and Peeta's hands hesitate for just a moment before moving from my back to my breasts. He cups them both in his hands, and I sigh, my eyes closing at his soft, exploratory touches. As I stay straddled above him, I can still feel him beneath me, his penis stiffening into a full erection, straining against his boxers._

_I move to rock my hips against him again, my body reacting in ways my brain wouldn't otherwise have known how to do, but Peeta pulls me down next to him, tangling his limbs in mine, kissing and touching me until he's eliciting groans from my throat too._

_"One of these days, we should actually go out. On a real date," he whispers as his mouth hovers hotly over my ear, his fingers dancing along my hipbone._

_"Peeta," I breathe, stroking the curls of hair at the back of his neck when he pulls back to look at me. "We…can't."_

_"You know," he tells me, looking at me seriously now. "You're the only one who thinks we can't."_

_I understand his point. We also can't sneak around like this forever. I'd like nothing more than to do normal, teenage couple-y things with him like going to movies and meeting at each other's lockers between class periods, but he also has to understand that it's only been a few weeks, and that I have no idea how to tell Madge that I'm falling for her younger brother. And god forbid his mother find out about us, because that woman hates me enough already._

_I sigh. "I'll think about it," I agree, to appease him. Peeta seems sort of satisfied by my answer, or at least he allows me to kiss him. "But who says this isn't a real date?" I hum against his lips, feeling the beginning of a smile on them. "By my account, this is a_ really good _date."_

_I illustrate my argument by delving my hand beneath the elastic waistband of his boxers, and his body jerks at my unexpected touch. "Okay, you win," he croaks, and I watch as his eyes flutter closed as I reach for him. "This is better than a date." My heart races and I'm nervous to touch him, because it's something I've never done before, but I want to make him feel good so badly that my desire overcomes my nerves._

_He's hot to the touch, and he feels smooth, and hard, against my palm, which I tentatively begin to rub against his shaft. He lets out a soft groan, and Peeta's hips seem to buck into my hand involuntarily as I begin to stroke him. The only knowledge I have of this kind of stuff comes from conversations with Madge and a few other girls, other than what you can pick up flipping through issues of_ Cosmopolitan, _but in the moment, it feels pretty self-explanatory. I move my hand in a twisting, repetitive motion up and down his length, using the precum leaking from his tip for lubrication. I can feel him stiffening under my touch._

_"Am I doing this right?" I whisper, wanting to be sure. Peeta's eyes fly open, and his pupils are fat, his eyelids heavy with want. He looks so appreciative that my question seems silly._

_"So right," he sighs with a lazy smile before his eyes flutter back closed, his head lulling into his pillow. After another minute, Peeta shifts next to me, pressing kisses to the crook of my neck, the kisses interspersed with his hot and heavy breaths that make my skin tingle._

_"Katniss," he whispers. "Just a little faster. I'm close." Even though my forearm burns, I pick up my pace, exhilarated by the way I can feel him begin to pulse beneath my fingers. Peeta emits a string of incoherent, soft noises, and I pump him until his hand is suddenly covering mine, helping me stroke him vigorously to completion. I'm caught slightly off guard by the way my hand becomes filled with a hot, sticky liquid that spurts from Peeta in small bursts, and my eyes go wide, watching his face contort as his body reacts, his breathing unregulated. But after a few more seconds, it's all over and he relaxes instantly._

_He opens his eyes with a grateful, happy sigh, and then he presses a kiss to my forehead, chuckling nervously as he observes the mess we've seemed to make. "Let me get something for that," he says, blushing as he reaches over me for the floor, picking up the t-shirt I'd peeled off him just a few minutes ago and letting me wipe my hands on it. After I clean my hands and let Peeta wipe himself clean too, we lie back down, and I rest my head on his chest. I can hear his steady heartbeat as Peeta strokes my hair softly, whispering in my ear that he wants to return the favor. His hands are just starting to find their way past my abdomen when we're interrupted by a loud, urgent, banging coming from the other side of his door._

_"Peeta!" Madge yells, the drunken slur to her voice obvious over her knocks._

_We both freeze, afraid to move an inch as the doorknob starts to twist. But thank god for locks, because Madge can't get in. She realizes this quickly and starts banging on the door again. "Peeta! Let me innnn!"_

_"Oh shit," I breathe, looking to Peeta, who's already leaping out from underneath me, putting his finger to his lips in an effort to keep me quiet. He motions for me to get under the covers._

_"Pretend you're asleep," he instructs, and I do as he says, watching with one eye open as he scrambles into a pair of sleep shorts, running a hand back and forth through his hair as he moves to the door. He takes a deep breath before opening it._

_"Will you be quiet?!" I hear him scold Madge as I squeeze my eyes closed and officially pretend like I'm dead to the world._

_Madge's reaction to seeing me, asleep in Peeta's bed, is anything but quiet. "Oh my god! What the—?"_

_"I think she passed out in my bed by mistake," Peeta lies, cutting his sister off, telling her to keep her voice down again._

_Madge sort of complies, and I picture her with her hand to her mouth, because it sounds like she's trying to suppress a laugh. "What an idiot," she hisses, and I think she means_ me. _Then she must turn her attention back to Peeta, because I hear a whacking sound that sounds like her hand hitting his chest. "And you were just creepily watching her sleep?"_

_"No," Peeta tells her, calmly. "I just found her in here. But I needed to change my clothes. I'm going to sleep on the couch."_

_Madge seems to accept this explanation for the scene unfolding before her eyes, and I say a silent prayer to the vodka gods for making her so gullible tonight. "Whatever," she mutters. "But put a shirt on, you pervert."_

***

"Do you think my brother is dating Delly Cartwright?"

We're in the cafeteria, the day after Peeta drove me home from practice—the day that ended with what I think was our first fight—and Madge has just unexpectedly switched the conversation from Mr. Abernathy's U.S. Government test and how easy it was to her little brother's love life. I almost choke on my carrot sticks.

"What?"

Madge shrugs, taking a bite of her sandwich and looking in Peeta's direction, who sits a few tables over from us. Madge and I are some of the only Seniors in this lunch period, which means we'll be spending our Senior year eating lunch by ourselves at one of the smaller tables on the edge of the cafeteria. Not that either of us minds—I think we prefer hanging out with each other over anyone else.

"Delly. His friend. The girl sitting next to him. I think she likes him."

I follow Madge's gaze, taking a quick note of Peeta, who's unassumingly talking with his supposed new girlfriend. Delly Cartwright has been Peeta's best friend at school since they were little. She's sort of lumpy, with thick curly blonde hair that's cut in a way that's unflattering to her round face, but she has a bright, usually kind smile. And from what I know, she's fiercely loyal to Peeta.

And she's currently laughing at something Peeta's just said. I guess I can see why Madge might think they're dating, or at least that Delly likes him, because she _does_ seem pretty enamored with him.

I look back to Madge, her blue eyes watching me carefully in a way that makes me squirm inside. Is she testing me? Or am I being paranoid? I make a face, biting into another carrot stick, hoping I seem disinterested as I ask. "Why do you think Peeta's dating Delly?"

"Oh, I don't know," Madge says, waving off my question with a shake of her head. "Just something my dad said to me the other day after I made a joke about Peeta needing to get laid. He told me that I might want to give Peeta a little more credit, and it made me think he knows something I don't. It's silly, I know."

It's not silly at all, actually. My throat goes dry, and my eyes snap to Peeta—and Delly, who's still smiling at him, by the way. Inwardly, I start to panic, and I try to keep my composure, but I think I'm pretty bad at it. "Maybe Peeta _is_ dating Delly," I blurt out, and Madge tilts her head to the side curiously at me. "They do look awfully close right now," I add, for good measure.

Then Madge wrinkles her nose, flipping her perfectly styled long blonde locks over her shoulder. "Ugh, no, don't tell me that," she groans. "He can do so much better than Delly."

"Wh-what?" I stammer, wondering if I've entered the twilight zone, because Madge's sudden change of heart towards Peeta officially has my head spinning.

"C'mon, Katniss. He may be my dorky little brother, but he's still a catch. Even I can see that. What about Clove Mason? On the JV team? I think I saw her checking him out when he came down to the gym yesterday." Her eyes shine in a way that makes me struggle to keep mine from narrowing with suspicion. This honestly feels like a test. One much harder than Mr. Abernathy's.

"Madge," I finally say with a tired sigh, "if you have so much confidence in Peeta, why don't you let him find his own girlfriend? I'm sure he doesn't need your help."

"Maybe you're right," she says, considering me for a moment before looking back towards Peeta. "Although, if he had his way, he'd probably choose you."

And then she laughs like it's the funniest thing she's ever said.

***

_"Mmmm."_

_The quiet noises I'm making under the cover of darkness and a quilted blanket on the old couch in the Mellark's basement would be beyond embarrassing if anyone other than Peeta heard them. But for Peeta, my whimpering just seems to encourage him, and his fingers move more insistently inside of me. He draws tight circles with the pads of two of his fingers against my clit, and a heavy pressure builds under his touch until I feel like I may burst._

_"You're really wet," he whispers from his position lying prone next to me, and his tone sounds equal parts in awe and proud._

_"It feels really good," I murmur in response, arching my hips up into his hand, and I catch the upturn of Peeta's lips in the glow of the television light before I squeeze my eyes shut in concentration._

_It's the middle of a Friday night in late September, and this isn't the first time I've snuck out from a sleepover in Madge's bedroom in order to be with Peeta. And it also isn't the first time we've spent half the night touching and exploring one another, either. In fact, it's becoming pretty routine, for us to meet up in the basement, where Peeta's always been known to fall asleep watching movies or playing video games on the weekends._

_And so here I am, letting Peeta touch me until I come apart in his hand at three in the morning. It feels like the best idea we've ever had, meeting up like this, because after a few more seconds, I'm biting my lip to keep from crying out as steady, rolling waves of pleasure wash over me._

_"I can feel you coming, this is so hot," Peeta whispers, swallowing my breaths as he kisses me with warm, urgent lips, his fingers pumping hard and quick. His voice, and his words, and his lips do something new to me, and I moan into his mouth, my lower half practically shaking from his touch._

_Even after I'm lying limp and boneless next to him, sighing contentedly, Peeta doesn't stop. He continues to kiss, and play with me, and I let out a light giggle as Peeta nibbles my ear. He pulls back to grin at me when the kitchen light suddenly flicks on, flooding the basement stairs with a blinding, terrifying light._

_"Peeta, go to bed. It's after three in the morning."_

_Mr. Mellark's voice freezes me stiller than a statue, and I'm sure I look to Peeta with eyes as wide as saucers. He doesn't look any calmer than I feel, the panic of being caught building between us._

_"O-Okay, Dad," he calls back up the stairs, reaching for the remote to switch the movie playing in the background off. "Sorry."_

_The silence is deafening now, and I can tell Mr. Mellark is still standing at the top of the stairs, maybe waiting for Peeta to physically leave the basement before he's satisfied. Were we being louder than we normally are? Have we gotten too comfortable with our routine, and one another, and did we somehow wake Mr. Mellark from two stories away? I find that hard to believe, but obviously, it doesn't matter now._

_"Come up here now, please," Mr. Mellark says tiredly, confirming my thoughts._

_Peeta makes a face, scrunching his nose and taking a deep breath before mouthing the words "stay here" to me. I look at him, helplessly. What else would I do? Then he throws his t-shirt back on and jogs his way up the basement steps. I can hear a muffled discussion occurring between Peeta and his father, and it keeps my heart in my throat. What's so important that it requires talking about it in the middle of the night?_

_I find out soon enough when Mr. Mellark clears his throat awkwardly, and then speaks loudly enough that I can hear him._

_"And Katniss, you can come up here too now."_

_I think I'd rather melt into a puddle and die right here in this basement._

_"Do I have to?" I moan, wondering if it's actually possible to die from embarrassment. My face is unbearably hot, and my stomach feels like it's filled with lead._

_"Yes," comes Mr. Mellark's simple, stern reply._

_I curse under my breath, dragging myself out from under the blankets, quietly pulling myself back together—and properly clothing myself—before making my long, shameful walk up the stairs. Mr. Mellark is at the top of them, and greets with me with a shake of his head and a look of disbelief, actually muttering a faint_ "unbelievable" _to himself. I shift my gaze to his son who's standing behind him, looking as miserably guilty as I feel._

_"Okay, new rule," Mr. Mellark tells me, folding his arms across his chest. "No more sleepovers."_

***

After the bell dismisses us from the cafeteria, I make a beeline for Peeta, who I know is headed to his locker before his Pre-Calc class. When I reach him, he probably thinks he's being kidnapped, with how quickly I drag him into the nearest private space, which happens to be a janitor's closet.

"What are you doing?" he asks, looking at me like I'm crazy.

"Does your sister know about us?" I ask, not caring about anything else as I lean against the closed door of the tiny, dimly lit closet, lined with mops and buckets and shelves of paper towels and toilet paper rolls.

Peeta raises an eyebrow. "No. Not unless you finally told her."

"She thinks you're dating Delly and wants to set you up with Clove Mason," I tell him, ignoring his jab at me. "Why would she tell me that?"

Peeta smirks, like all of this is some sort of joke to him. "Clove Mason, huh? She's sort of cute."

I scowl. "Peeta."

Peeta shrugs, unrelenting with his smirk. "What? At least she wouldn't have to pull me into a janitor's closet just to talk to me."

I scowl again, bigger this time. He really doesn't get it, does he? I blow the strands of hair that frame my face, fallen loose from my braid, and I put my hands on my hips, determined to make him get it then.

"Why do you think I'm so afraid to let anyone find out?" I hiss, narrowing my eyes at him. "I don't want to lose you. I like you _so_ much, Peeta. So much that it makes me act like a crazy person. But I'm your sister's my best friend. And I'm terrified that if Madge finds out, I'll either have to choose, or worse, I'll lose you both."

I get some satisfaction out of the way Peeta's face falls as I talk, because I think he's finally understanding where I've been coming from all this time. "And that's not even to mention your mother," I continue, "who already thinks I'm a corrupting influence, by the way. She'd banish me from your house if she found out—"

"—Let me handle my mother," Peeta interrupts me. He sets his jaw, nodding his head once at me. "I get it, okay?" he says, more quietly now. "I know you're scared of Madge, but Katniss, she's my sister. I know her just as well as you do. And I don't think she's going to be that upset with you. If anything, she'll just be mad at _me._ " Peeta sighs, as if he's been waiting a long time to say these words to me. "And if she really can't handle you dating me, well then what kind of friend is she, anyway?"

I hate how right Peeta can be sometimes. How sensible and logical and reasonable he can make things sound, when in my head it's all one big mess. I wish he was wrong, and that he didn't just make a bunch of different valid points. But he's probably right. If Madge is really my best friend, then she'll continue to be my best friend even after she finds out I've been sneaking around with her brother.

Although I still think there's a chance she may kill us both.

Peeta watches me, and I shrug, giving in. "Okay," I agree softly.

"Okay," Peeta repeats. "So I'll tell my mother, and you'll tell Madge. Deal?"

"Deal," I mumble into the ground, my mind already coming up with a thousand different scenarios of how all of this could play out, all of them ending tragically.

"Hey," Peeta says, his lips quirking into a smile when I pull my eyes back up from the floor. "I promise that I'll still love you regardless of what either of them think."

Are my ears playing tricks on me? Did he just say what I think he said? In a janitor's closet that smells like Pine-Sol as the rest of Panem High roams the halls around us, no less? I gape at him, and Peeta chuckles nervously.

"Oh, come on, don't look so surprised," he tells me, stepping into me and wrapping his arms around my waist. "You know I've loved you for a while now."

I look up into his sincere blue eyes, and I think that might be true. Although knowing something and hearing it out loud are two different things entirely. And in that moment, I do the only thing I can think of, which is kiss him unabashedly, wrapping my arms around his neck and pressing myself into him until he's forced to take a step backwards in order to maintain his balance. We bump into a set of mops and buckets, which creates more noise than what would usually be coming from a janitor's closet between fifth and sixth periods. And while mop handles crashing to the ground and buckets overturning around us don't stop us, the closet door flinging open shortly thereafter does.

I pull my lips from Peeta's, startling and spinning around at the sound of our intruder, expecting it to be Mr. Pollux, the school's janitor, already trying to come up with an excuse for why Peeta Mellark and I are lip-locked in his closet.

I have to say, I really wasn't expecting to end up face to face with Madge. Or Delly Cartwright, who's standing next to her, wide-eyed and open-mouthed. And I'm really, really unprepared for the wide grin that creeps across Madge's face as she leans herself against the doorframe. She takes the two of us in, still half-tangled up in one another, and shakes her head at us.

"You two are so dumb."

***

_I'm washing my hands in the bathroom around the corner from my Physics class when Delly Cartwright comes out of the third stall, joining me at the sinks. I smile at her in the mirror, because she's one of those people who smiles at everyone, and I also know that she's friends with Peeta, and I want to be nice. But I'm taken aback when she doesn't smile back, and instead she narrows her eyes at me._

_"You're not better than him, you know."_

_"Excuse me?" I ask, my smile dropping to a frown as I reach for the paper towel dispenser between us._

_Delly shakes her head, her blonde ringlets bobbing as she does. "I'm not stupid, Katniss. I know Peeta's had a crush on you for practically forever. It's obvious, the way he looks at you."_

_She stares at me like she can see right through me. "But it's equally obvious that you've been stealing an awful lot of glances his way too this year. And you're not better than him. In fact, I'd say you're the lucky one. I think you need to remember that every time you choose to blatantly ignore him in the hallways or in the lunch room."_

_"Delly," I manage to croak, my tongue as dry as sandpaper as her words hit me like a ton of bricks. Has Peeta said something to her, or are we really that obvious? And if we are, who else has taken notice? And, more importantly, does Peeta really think that about me—that I think I'm better than him, or that I'm embarrassed by him? Because nothing could be further from the truth. "It's not what you think."_

_Delly doesn't back down, and she tosses her used paper towel into the trash can on the other side of the room by the door, turning to look back at me. "What I_ think _is that you need to seriously consider how it would feel to be Peeta in this situation. And you need to stop being so selfish. Because Peeta deserves to be loved by someone who isn't afraid to do it out loud."_

_Then she smiles one of those bright, unassuming smiles I'm more accustomed to seeing on her face, and she pushes the door open with her back. It's as if she's flipped a switch or something. "Have a good day, Katniss," she calls cheerfully as she leaves._

***

Delly's words have stuck with me since she said them just a little over a week ago, and they've never rung more true than in this moment.

Well, they also rang pretty true two days ago when she and Madge caught Peeta and I in the janitor's closet, and I finally fessed up to Madge that I did in fact have a crush, and that my crush was her younger brother. Although I don't know how much effect a confession has on someone when they already seem to know everything anyway.

After she catches us, Madge claims she knew all along that I've been seeing Peeta for the past three months. And she tells me that she couldn't keep it up anymore, that our sneaking around was exhausting, even for her. She says everyone saw us kissing on the couch at the cabin that last night of vacation, and that Ryan had to physically cover Johanna's mouth to keep her from screaming and interrupting us when they'd gotten curious and spied through the window. And she laughs at me for thinking she didn't know, because apparently, I've been pretty obvious. Then Madge tells me that she only started messing with me recently because she was becoming annoyed that I hadn't told her yet.

I respond by telling her that I thought she'd be mad at me, or hate me, or worse, kill me. Madge just laughs at me again, and tells me that she's not mad. Although she admits that it is a little weird—okay, a lot weird—that I'm seeing her brother. But as long as I promise not to stop hanging out with her, who is she to judge who I like? She tells me she's not her mother, and then comments with a knowing look that we probably shouldn't tell Mrs. Mellark just yet. I don't disagree.

And after that awkward, yet enlightening, conversation occurs, all in the janitor's closet and all in the few minutes' time between our classes, I let my hand slip into Peeta's, grabbing onto it tightly. I catch Delly's eye in that moment, and she smiles at me, but I don't take Peeta's hand for her benefit. And I don't walk to my next class with him, hand in hand, together, for her benefit either. I do it for mine.

It feels good to embrace her words though, and to embrace Peeta. To love him. Out loud.

And tonight is about doing exactly that. It's our first real date. A Saturday night consisting of dinner and a movie, of Peeta picking me up in his Jeep and taking me out. He wears a button up shirt and jeans, and I wear one of my nicest sweaters, and I even put on mascara and lip-gloss. Madge covers for us, telling her mother Peeta's going to Cato's party with her, proclaiming a détente of sorts between the Mellark siblings. She tells me she thinks Mrs. Mellark is so happy to have the house to herself that she doesn't question it.

I've never been on a real date before, and neither has he, but it feels pretty natural at this point, to share a meal at an Italian restaurant in Panem's uptown neighborhood, and to watch a movie at the theater down the street, splitting a medium popcorn between us. He comes back to my house afterwards, and my mother's working third shift and won't be home until morning, so we have it all to ourselves.

I don't specifically plan for it to happen, but having sex with him for the first time tonight feels pretty natural too.

Although by teenage standards, _natural_ basically means being timid and self-conscious, and Peeta's adorably nervous, and sweet, about the whole thing. I think he must ask me if _I'm sure_ five times before he even pulls the condom wrapper from the back pocket of his jeans.

"You came prepared though," I tease, watching his fingers fumble with the wrapper as he's perched above me. We're lying on my bed, our clothes in a messy heap on the floor after quite a few minutes of building up to this moment.

"Shut up," he tells me, bowing his head as I laugh.

"Hey," I say quietly, after he rolls the condom down his length carefully, looking up at me with wide eyes. "I need to tell you something before we do this."

I smile softly as at the look of concern that crosses his face. "It's nothing bad," I promise, reaching up to push his blond hair off his forehead, quickly counting the eleven freckles on his nose I memorized months ago.

"Well, what it is it?" he says, and I try not to show my amusement at the slight exasperation to his voice.

"It's just that I wanted you to know that I love you too, okay?"

Peeta grins, a warm, happy grin that makes his eyes sparkle and dimples appear in his cheeks. "Okay," he nods.

"Okay," I repeat, grinning myself and pulling him down by the back of his neck in order to kiss him.

"Okay," Peeta says again against my lips, coming up for air after a string of increasingly messy kisses. "You're really sure?"

"Peeta," I tell him, laughing lightly as I arch my hips up to meet his, "I've never been more sure of anything in my life."

**Author's Note:**

> _Written for Prompts in Panem's Round 7 Day 1: Dreams Everlark, Cheeks. It's also the end result of a very good friend's prompt, and so I have to thank @flythruflames (wheneverdeen on tumblr) for the inspiration._
> 
> _And if you want to come visit me on tumblr, I'm @hashtagpeeta._


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